Legend of Ransera

122 Frost 4th

With legs crossed on his dorm room floor, Ivar was trying his best to meditate. But that incessant scribbling noise from the corner of the room was really hard to ignore. He'd hoped meditation would help him find inner peace, but all he found was an increasing urge to snatch the quill from his classmate's hand.

“Concentrate."

But it was like trying to ignore a mosquito buzzing in your ear. Deep breath in, deep breath out. The tranquillity he sought seemed more elusive with each passing second. His mind began to wander.

“Damn it.”

From a corner of the room, hushed whispers trickled into his ears. Two of his classmates were deep in conversation, probably thinking Ivar was too wrapped in his meditation to pay attention. But their topic of discussion soon proved too intriguing for him to ignore.

"Well, this is interesting."

The conversation was all about the girls in their class. The guys were sharing their ‘observations’, each comment more disrespectful than the last. It was as if they saw the girls as objects rather than individuals. Ivar listened in, thinking of how he could use this information. He didn’t like those guys much, and this could be a fun way to teach them a lesson.

"You know Rebecca? The one with the curly hair? She thinks she’s all that. Strutting around like she owns the place."

"Oh, yeah. And what about Jessica? Always has her face buried in a book. Could do with a little fun in her life."

"Makes you wonder what they'd think if they knew how we see them."

Their laughter echoed around the room, and Ivar opened his eyes, suppressing a smirk. He had all the ammunition he needed. The guys hadn't even realized he was listening because he appeared to be meditating. The thought of their faces when the girls confronted them brought a wicked smile to his face.

"Oh, they will know."

Still, as the two classmates went on with their crude comments, Ivar realized just how deep their disrespect ran. The thought disgusted him, but it also gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction. He would make sure they wouldn’t get away with it.

"Doesn't she have any respect for herself?"

And so, he continued to play the part of the unaware, meditating mage in training, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. The conversation kept going on and on, supplying him with enough information to fill a book. Every comment, every laughter that was supposed to be a private joke, he remembered them all.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they left the room, probably off to find some more victims to their shallow scrutiny. Ivar opened his eyes, a plan forming in his mind. With the newfound information, he could easily stir up a storm. He could just imagine their faces when they found out that their private conversation wasn’t so private after all.

"I just hope they're ready. Oh, this is going to be fun."

He was no angel himself, but the thought of those guys being taught a lesson was a pleasure he couldn’t deny. After all, if you're going to disrespect someone, you better be ready for the consequences. With a plan in mind, Ivar rose from his meditation spot. It was time to pay a visit to the women that had been mentioned so disrespectfully in the conversation. His classmates were in for a surprise.

The dormitory was vast, and navigating through the halls could be a bit confusing. But it didn’t take long for Ivar to find the girls' dormitory and a few questions from there led him to a nice quiet study area where the girls he was after were. He knew where a lot of people stayed; it was a habit he had developed, knowing where people were. It made it easier to avoid certain ones. He didn't knock when he arrived, just stepped right in. The girls looked up in surprise, but he didn’t pay them any mind. He didn't have time for pleasantries.

"Mind if I have a seat ladies? We have a lot to talk about."

They hesitated, exchanging glances, but eventually nodded yes. Ivar took a moment to gather his thoughts, deciding where to start. He finally started to spill the beans, revealing every crude comment, every disrespectful assumption his classmates had made. The girls listened in shock, their faces pale.

The following silence was filled with a tension that was almost palpable. The girls were still reeling from the revelation, their eyes wide and mouths slightly ajar. Ivar could see the gears turning in their heads, formulating plans and preparing countermeasures. He didn't want to be too involved, but he couldn't help but feel a certain satisfaction in his chest. He was causing chaos, turning the tables on his crude classmates. The satisfaction was quickly washed away by a wave of guilt, though.

"Was it right to tell them all this?"

Suddenly, one of the girls, Lida, jumped to her feet. Her expression was fiery, determination burning in her eyes. She declared that they wouldn't just sit and take the insults. They were going to fight back. The room was filled with a newfound energy as the girls started whispering strategies. Ivar decided to step out, his part was done. He just hoped that the consequences wouldn't be too disastrous. Ivar decided it was time to step out of the room and give the girls some privacy to discuss their plan. He didn’t need to be around for that part. He just hoped he hadn't bitten off more than he could chew.

Once he was back in his room, Ivar felt a sense of peace descend on him. It was late now, and the room was finally quiet. He could hear his own breathing, steady and slow, and the faint ticking of an old clock somewhere in the distance. The silence was just what he needed.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes, crossed his legs, and began to meditate. His heart rate slowed, and his mind emptied itself of all thoughts, focusing only on the steady rhythm of his breathing. The world around him seemed to fade away as he sank deeper into meditation. With his mind clear, Ivar started to feel an energy pulsing within him. It was faint at first, but with every passing second, it grew stronger. It was like a warm, soothing light, radiating from within him and filling the room. It was a feeling of peace and serenity that he had never felt before.

Just when he thought he was getting the hang of it, a sudden noise from outside his room disrupted his concentration. He sighed, feeling his energy wane and the peaceful feeling slip away. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, trying to bring back the calmness he had felt just a moment ago.

But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't seem to find his center again. The peaceful feeling was gone, and all he felt was frustration. But then, he remembered his teacher's words about not letting external factors control his state of mind.

"Clear your mind."

So, he closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and began to meditate once more. This time, he blocked out all the noises and distractions, focusing only on his breathing and the energy within him. Slowly, he began to feel the calmness return, and the energy started to radiate from within him again.

As he meditated, he felt a sense of accomplishment. He had managed to overcome his frustration and find his center again. It was a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless. As he continued to meditate, he felt himself grow more in tune with his inner self.

By the time he was done, it was late. He opened his eyes and glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. But despite the late hour, he felt rejuvenated and refreshed. He had managed to meditate successfully, and he was proud of his achievement.

Ivar found himself lying in bed, his mind buzzing with thoughts. He stared at the ceiling, the shadows forming strange shapes in the dim light. He had meditated quite a bit that day, and now he was far from tired. His body wanted rest, but his mind was just too awake.

With a sigh, he rolled out of bed. What was the use of lying around if he couldn't sleep anyway? Better to use this time for something productive. His eyes darted to the desk tucked in one corner of the room. An idea began to take root.

Picking up a piece of parchment and an inkpot, Ivar settled down on his desk. The room was silent except for the faint sound of his own breathing and the occasional rustle of parchment. Scrivening. He decided to practice it. It was a good way to focus his mind, a perfect activity for a sleepless night.

Ivar didn't know how long he practiced, only stopping when his hand started to ache. He looked at the parchment, now filled with symbols, some good, some not so good. But it was progress. He had learned something, improved a bit. That was what mattered.